Colorful Prospects
by bleuboxes
Summary: AU: "Yeah. You know. It's like my mum said before she died – you see the Colors when you're with your special person." "Special Person?" he questioned. "You know, like when you love somebody so much that all you ever want is for them to be happy. Or when you love somebody so much that you would leave them just so they could be happy."


_We are secrets to each other  
>Each one's life a novel no one else has read<br>Even joined in bonds of love  
>We're linked to one another by such slender threads<em>

_We are planets to each other  
>Drifting in our orbits to a brief eclipse<br>Each of us a world apart  
>Alone and yet together like two passing ships<em>

_Just between us, I think it's time for us to recognize  
>The differences we sometimes fear to show<br>Just between us, I think it's time for us to realize  
>The spaces in between leave room for you and I to grow<em>

_We are strangers to each other  
>Full of sliding panels, an illusion show<br>Acting well rehearsed routines or playing from the heart?  
>It's hard for one to know<em>

_Just between us, I think it's time for us to recognize  
>The differences we sometimes fear to show<br>Just between us, I think it's time for us to realize  
>The spaces in between leave room for you and I to grow<em>

_We are islands to each other  
>Building hopeful bridges on a troubled sea<br>Some are burned or swept away  
>Some we would not choose but we're not always free<em>

_Just between us, I think it's time for us to recognize  
>The differences we sometimes fear to show<br>Just between us, I think it's time for us to realize  
>The spaces in between leave room for you and I to grow<em>

* * *

><p><em>-Entre Nous, <em>Rush

* * *

><p>They called her Clara, only because they had to. Something normal, something dull, something flat. That was her world. There was no color or individuality, well they said there wasn't until you met the right person, but she knew ever since the age of eleven that nobody would fall in love with her. It was tragic really; her mother died and the bills and debt just became so much for her father that he had to send her to her gran, who had passed away just two years after, then she was sent back to her dad, who had remarried while she was away to an old hag of a woman named Linda. She was beaten brutally when her father was away on business. Then when she turned of age, she ran away.<p>

She ran into the countryside, searching for somebody that would care for her. She searched for someone that she would love. But it was hard for her, just living in black and white. The world was ugly, and the tiny scar just above her right eye made her feel ugly too. But Clara was a smart woman, and she knew that she would be stuck this way for a long time, if not for the rest of her life. The hopes and dreams of a small innocent child had finally died into the broken lonely nineteen year old girl.

She had made a few friends, all leaving her but one. His name was Rory, and he was a twenty something ex-medical student. He told her that the monotonous routine of the city had worn him out and he needed to get away. They were wanderers of a black and white landscape which was full of rolling hills whose beauty was masked to the passer by.

Her mother had told her in her dying moments a secret, a secret of lovers of sorts. She had told her of the Colors. The pinks the blues the greens the reds that burst into life when you fell in love with the right person. She didn't want to believe her mother who was probably in a state of shock, but she chose to because that was the only thing that kept her going anymore. She wanted to find _that_ person. She wanted to find the person that made her see beauty the way beauty was intended to be seen. She wanted to find intimate friendship. And maybe, most of all she wanted the eleven year old child's last hope to become the nineteen year old nomad's reality.

* * *

><p>"C'mon, Clara. We're going to need to get some food before we hit the road again." Said Rory as he leaned against Tara, their old battered up rusty hunk of junk car which she rescued from a junkyard with a little help from him.<p>

"Yeah, I know, "She sighed, "Suppose I'll just pick some money off the money tree then." He rolled his eyes at her, like he usually did. She was witty, and that was probably the only remaining part of her left from when her mother was around.

"I was thinking that maybe you could get a job at that coffee shop in town; it had a help wanted sign in the window." He told her matter of fact-ly.

"Why can't you do it?"

"I happen to be lacking in your feminine charm."

"You're going to be lacking two something's in a minute if you don't shut up." She snapped, which caused him to laugh, then he noted the grave expression she wore and quickly realized that she was not kidding around.

"Okay, so maybe don't kill me." He said slowly, in fear of his life, "I asked them if they wanted my help, you know, they specifically said they wanted a waitress. I told them I'd even cut the pony tail!"

"Alright, alright. I believe you." She said, "Where is this place exactly?"

The next morning, after a good night's sleep in their car, Rory and Clara ventured off into town, where they walked into a breakfast joint, which was appropriately named 'Cuppa Joe' (She thought the name was a little dull, but then again, when everything was in black and white, things, even names were bound to be).

"Ah, Rory. I see you've brought your friend to help you out." Said the woman. She was all legs and her hair was very long and a very peculiar shade of grey, unlike any other shade she had seen before. (Oh, what the color must look like.) "Won't you introduce me to her?" asked the woman.

"Oh, Yeah. This is Clara." He said.

"Hello!" said the woman, 'I'm Amy."

"Hi." She said.

"So I'll get you and Rory aprons and John can help get you two get started. We usually aren't too busy on a Wednesday morning."

"Alright," said Rory, "thanks." Amy walked away through the kitchen door.

"She's nice." Clara whispered to him.

"Yeah." Said Rory in a dream-like state.

"Jesus Christ, Rory. First day on the job and you already fancy the boss?"

"Shut up, Clara. Don't make me remind you about Nina." She was in the middle of trying to come up with a witty remark, but she was not able to when a man wearing a bow tie (which at the time she found a bit kinky) walked in carting two aprons in his hands. He looked around at first, probably looking for the two new employees. When his eyes found them, his face lit up like a puppy's and he pranced over to where they were standing.

"Hello!" she said cheerfully, "I'm John, but everyone calls me the Doctor. It's a much less boring name."

"Hello. I'm Clara and this is Rory." She said.

"Well here are these. You can just tie them up and wallah! Instant waiter and waitress!"

"Okay. Thanks, John." Said Clara.

"Doctor." He reminded her.

"Sorry, Doctor." She said. He laughed and Rory gave her a weird look.

"Well, Amy wants me to explain how things work around here. Basically, Rory, you'll cover those tables over by the door and Clara you'll get the couple tables on the other side of the restaurants. River works the counter and I'm in the kitchens with Amy. If you need any help, just ask River. She'll be happy to help." The front door opened revealing a woman with hair that was the size of Jupiter and in perfect ringlets, "Oh, here she is now! Hello, River."

"Hello, sweetie; are these the new people Amy wouldn't shut up about." She asked.

"Yes, actually. River, this is Clara," he said and she waved to River, who looked at her suspiciously which caused Clara to feel a little uncomfortable, "And this is Rory."

"Hi." Replied Rory. River's reaction to him was much less deterring.

"They look intelligent enough for a couple of wanderers." Said River as she walked over to the kitchen doors. Rory looked a little bit offended, but Clara couldn't care less; she had dealt with so much crap from everyone and everything all her life, she just didn't even here it any more.

"I completed my mandatory education. At least I learned some manners." She said.

"Oh, so you dropped out after year twelve? Looks like this is going to be the best job you can ever get, then."

"Well, what makes you so special?"

"I'm in the process of become an archeologist." River said with her head held high. Clara was impressed, who would have thought.

"That's pretty cool. A lot less boring than being a coffee shop person, anyway." She responded honestly.

"Well, thanks." Said River, who seemed in a state of disbelief at Clara's genuine response.

"I'm Clara." She said, "You know, because introductions sound much more real coming off your own lips than somebody else's."

"River." She said and extended her hand. Clara took it and they shook. "It's nice meeting you, Clara."

"The pleasure is-"

"Oi!" yelled Amy, "We open in five minutes. Shut up and get ready."

The whole day, Clara only messed up twice, which was considerably good considering her (lack of) people skills and (lack of) job experience. She actually had a great day, plus it was warm and they had toilets here. The work day had ended and it was time for Rory and Clara to return to Tara. River had left before them, wishing them a good night. John and Amy were just tidying up the kitchen when she and Rory went to retrieve their battered up coats. As Amy walked out of the kitchen to where they were, Clara's stomach rumbled loudly. She silently cursed it; she didn't want Amy to pity her. She didn't want any favors – favors always come with a price.

"You hungry?" she asked Clara.

"I'm fine. We have food back at the car."

"You sure?" she asked her again.

"Yeah I'm –"

"Don't listen to Clara. She can't swallow her pride. We'd love some food." Interrupted Rory. She scowled at him.

Amy went back into the kitchen and got some stuff out of the fridge. She wasted a good five minutes of her time making them a fresh salad. Clara felt bad for asking for favors. Amy brought it out and forced them (against Clara's will) to sit at a table and eat. Despite Clara's obvious protest to any sort of food, she devoured her share. Amy let out a chuckle.

"Where are you guys staying?" she asked with obvious curiosity.

"In a thirty year old car." Said Rory before she could answer something completely made up.

"Oh my god," said Amy, who gave them the eyes – those eyes that were filled with pity, "is there heat or anything?"

"No." said Clara emotionlessly, "the car only works when it wants to and it doesn't like me very much."

"That's silly." Said Amy, "Cars don't have feelings."

"Tell that to Tara and she'll run you over before you can scream _fuck_."

"Tara?"

"Clara named the car Tara," explained Rory, "She had just finished reading _Gone with the Wind_. She had a bit of an obsession if you ask me."

"Oh?"

"Shut up, Rory." She muttered into her lettuce.

"You guys could stay at my place; I don't use my basement if you want. I won't charge or anything."

"Yes. Thank you." Replied Rory, once again, before Clara could say no.

Amy went to put the salad bowls away and to get her jacket. When she came back, they embarked on a journey to two blocks down the street to Pond Ave. She lived in a two story house which seemed an odd color of grey compared to all the white houses on either side of it. She walked up the stairs and unlocked the door.

"Well, this is it. Sorry for the mess." Said Amy as she attempted to straighten out the pillows on her couch while they walked into the living room.

"Hey, at least you have a house for a mess to be held in."

"I never thought of it that way." Amy replied to Clara, who seemed to be awfully pessimistic. She led them towards the basement door. "You guys will be down stairs. I have a couch down there and maybe a recliner that just doesn't look good but it's really comfy."

Rory went down into the basement but Clara stayed at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.

"Why are you being so nice to us?" she asked, "You aren't supposed to be nice. You're supposed to treat us like trash. That's what you're told to do."

"I don't like to do as I'm told." Said Amy with a smirk.

"I can see that." She said. After a brief pause, she continued, "Thank you. Most people wouldn't hire us."

"Well, most people aren't Amy, then, are they."

"Not in the slightest."

Clara trudged down the stairs and collapsed on the recliner and fell deep into a well-deserved sleep. This was the first time of a routine that continued for two years, until she and Rory had enough money to get themselves their own flat. It wasn't much, but it was something that they could call their home. It was a block down the street from Amy, and she said if they ever needed anything, she would be there in a heartbeat.

Rory had been telling her about strange things happening to him when he was around Amy, in the meantime. He said the Blacks and Greys and Whites were turning into these things; these Colors. He said her hair was a bright red (Whatever red looked like and the sky was blue (again she had no idea what that looked like) and the world was so beautiful and filled with color. He said that he was scared and he didn't want to confront Amy about it in case she didn't see the Colors too. She told him about her mother and what she had told her during her last moments. She expected him to say it was silly, but instead he smiled a happy smile, one full of so much love that it made her want to burst from happiness herself.

"Clara!" he exclaimed, "I could kiss you right now!"

"I'm going to leave the kissing to Amy, thank you very much." She said. He chuckled at her.

In the two years that she had been in this town, nothing had disappointed her more than when the Doctor and River had told them that they were engaged. She hadn't known that they were together in the first place (Somehow, Amy and Rory did). She acted like she was thrilled; she liked River a lot. But she felt something towards the Doctor that was different than from anything else she had ever felt before. She felt like something inside her was trying to emerge, trying to bloom and it hurt. It hurt even more than it usually did when she heard the news. So she told Rory; he was her best friend, surly she thought that he would understand. He did. He said that was what it felt like before the Colors came. He didn't question why she was feeling this way, but he told her that it was weird when he first saw them. He had to be near Amy at first and now, the Colors were with him for most of the time.

"Just, be careful, Clara." Said Rory, "It's like your mum said. It's when you meet the right person, but that person's right person may not be you."

"Everybody wants somebody who doesn't want them." She replied.

"I suppose." He murmured.

* * *

><p>River continued with her schooling. She rarely came in to work anymore, which left a position open. Amy decided that Rory would be able to take care of Clara's tables and that Clara would be able to work the counter. She discovered that she was actually much better at the counter than at the tables and made many fast friends with the regulars. But, she had more time to talk with the Doctor now that River was away at school. They became an inseparable pair- a dynamic duo, and soon she began to think of him in a strange way, and then the Color's suddenly burst forth from her eyes like a blow to the head.<p>

It was beautiful. They were in the middle of the town's park for children, just running around and she had fallen over when he grabbed her hand and the world around her was drenched in something so peculiar. She saw the Doctor's skin wasn't a pure white, and his hair was not black and his eyes; his eyes captivated her with these eccentric electric colors that just kept swirling around. She couldn't help but stare.

"Is everything alright Clara?" he asked, "Is something wrong with my face? Oh dear, am I bleeding?"

"No," she said quickly trying to hide her amazement of the world around her, "I was just thinking about how awfully large your chin was; I was actually kind of nervous that you were going to poke my eye out with it."

"Shut up, you." He laughed. She couldn't help but smile. The world looked so alive; he looked so alive and she felt alive. It was beautiful, and she didn't ever want it to go away. But he had to leave to go home to his flat; The Colors faded when he left and she was placed back in the dull boring world. She was hurt that he didn't notice them too, maybe he did and didn't want to say anything. Or maybe, he saw the Colors with River. Maybe he was the somebody that she wanted. Maybe she was the somebody that he didn't want.

She ran home that night, well actually she ran to Amy and Rory's place. She had to tell Rory; he would understand. Maybe he would be able to explain what she had seen to her. She had so many questions to ask him. She wanted to know so much. But, right now she was trying to mask her pain with the joy of seeing all the beauty of everything.

"Rory!" Clara called loudly. She heard footsteps rush down the steps and a poorly dressed Rory emerged from the stair way.

"What, Clara. Can't you see that I'm sleeping while Amy's out?"

"Well, you're awake now." She pointed out.

"No thanks to you." He muttered, "What do you want?"

"I saw them, Rory, I saw the Colors. They're so beautiful." She said, "What are they? What color is the grass, what color is the sky? And the swings, what color are they?"

He answered her, and told her all he knew about the Colors – the grass is green, the sky is blue. The swings are red and her hair is a dark shade of brown. She listened to him describe Amy, who's hair was the color of carrots, which was called orange. He described the Doctor, who had mousey brown hair and grey blue eyes with specks of brown (She remembered too much of what his eyes looked like than she cared to admit). But she listened to Rory; she never once interrupted him as he lectured her on the Colors.

* * *

><p>A year had passed since that wonderful bittersweet, happy sad day; a lot can happen in a year. River finished her schooling and she and the Doctor were set to marry in June – a perfect wedding for a perfect pair, said Amy. When River returned, the Doctor had turned progressively more distant from her, which made her longing for him even more extreme. She was addicted to his touch, she saw so many wonders because of him, and now everything was monotonous. She was chosen to take part in their wedding, and for both of their sakes she tried to act happy about it, but she just couldn't help but feel damaged. Nobody would ever love her; it was just as her step mother, Linda had said, <em>"You're a stupid piece of garbage; nobody wants garbage. And when they do, there gonna try to fix it up, but they won't be able to, because after all. If it was broken before, it's never going to be fixed completely." <em>

Maybe, she thought, Linda was right. Maybe she was a piece of trash – maybe nobody would love her. She tried not to let the words from so long ago get to her on the Doctor and River's happiest night of their lives, but during the reception, after the Doctor gave her a hug due to sheer happiness and she couldn't reciprocate the pure joy, she excused herself. She ran outside into the warm June air, she ran to the park with the red swings and she cried. She cried because nobody would ever love her in such a way that they would commit themselves to loving her whole heartedly for the rest of their life. She cried because the Doctor, _John_, would never see her in the way that she saw him. She wondered if River made him see Colors, and cried because the answer was so obvious.

She was a loner, she always was and she always would be. She should have realized that by then. Maybe it was best if she ran away; nobody would miss her. It would be just like last time, she would leave an envelope explaining why she was leaving (maybe a little nicer of a letter though, these were her friends, after all). She'd take her money and Tara, who had been fixed up by her and Rory a year previously, and she would travel, see the sights. The color's stayed with her now, a little fragment of him where ever she went. Maybe she would return, someday, or maybe not. She was going to follow her heart, because that was the only thing in the universe that she trusted more than her car.

She trudged home, and in the process ruined her lavender gown. But she didn't care. It was a reminder of a not so pleasant night and, she didn't need any reminders of her emotional let downs. When she got to her home, she packed up all her clothes, all her pictures, all her things and threw them all into various bags. She changed into a pair of old jeans and a raggedy tee that smelled of nicotine and chocolate. (She didn't wonder why.) She packed all the bags into Tara's small trunk. It was time for her to write the letter. She cried while writing it. She didn't want to go, but it was for the best. Maybe good things would happen to her if she left like she and Rory had planned to all those years ago. That's the things about domesticity, it pulls you into it's never changing cycle of get up go to work and go to sleep; it's pleasant for most people to be satisfied with the normal dull colorless life of the ordinary. But Clara didn't want that – she wanted to travel, she wanted to see new things. And most of all, she wanted to find someone that would mend the wound the Doctor had inflicted upon her.

She packed the remaining items into another grocery bag and put them in Tara's newly reupholstered passenger seat. She walked around to the driver's side, got in and started the engine. And she was off. There was no turning back. She would go where ever her heart wanted to take her, and that was that.

The next five years were a blur for her. It was fun; there was so much color, and she had almost found someone that had made her as happy as the Doctor once did. The Doctor, her thoughts barley moved an inch without running into some piece of him; she just ignored them. Danny helped her forget about him for a while. He was a nice bloke – good looking, kind, a little bit arrogant, but he wasn't right; there was something missing from him that she needed to be complete. She didn't feel that rush in her veins when he held her hand. He didn't either; he was the one that broke it off. They agreed it was for the best.

"Go find that man you're always thinking about." He said to her without meeting her eyes.

"Who says I'm thinking of a man?" she asked him.

"Me. I can tell that when you look at me you're looking at a ghost. I get it, Clara – I know how you feel. Go get him. Just think how happy he'll be to see you. And I he isn't, he doesn't know what he's missing, because you're one _hell_ of a woman." He said. She looked at him with a sad smile.

"We'll keep in touch?" she asked.

"Yeah." He said, "You have my number, if you _ever_ decide to get a telephone."

"Thanks, Danny."

She returned to Tara and started her engines. She waved a tearful goodbye to Danny and started on her return trip to that town where she gained and lost everything. It was a thirteen hour drive back and she took all the time in the world. She was in no rush to see them again; she was scared of what could possibly happen. Would Rory and Amy scream in her face to go? Would River hit her for her sudden absence? Would the Doctor hate her because she didn't even bother to tell him why she left of their wedding day? Perhaps, she thought, but there was only one true way to find out.

After about a day of traveling because she took so many stops along the way, she arrived back in the town that broke her heart. The colors became more vibrant, more audacious and she knew then that maybe Danny was right about her. She drove past her old flat, which was up for rent. She zoomed past the park with the now faded red swing set. She pulled Tara into a parking spot outside Amy's pale blue house. It seemed sadder here now, there was an essence of loss in the air, but she wasn't sure if it was from her loss of friendship or because of their loss of her.

She sat in the car for a good twenty minutes arguing with herself; she didn't want to go in and see them because she was scared of what they would have to say to her. But she knew that she came all this way to see them again that she had to at least knock on the door. She mustered up her courage to go up to the door, and before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked. She tried to figure out what she was going to say but she couldn't formulate a thought. She heard the scuffling of drowsy human feet and the door opened with a crack. Amy stood in front of her, looking half asleep. She looked at Clara in shock.

"Hi." She whispered. It was a good start.

"RORY, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" she yelled. Then she cordially slapped Clara in the face.

"Oww! What was that for?"

"You just popped off in the middle of the wedding reception! Who the hell does that, Clara?" she yelled.

"Look, I'm sorry. I couldn't stay here, okay? There was something wrong with me and I wouldn't have been able to handle it if I stayed here."

"I know. I just really missed you, I guess." Said Amy, who was no longer angry with her. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thanks, Amy." She said.

They sat down in the living room; Amy went to make tea. She could not remember the last time she felt this wanted. Amy returned with three cups full and offered her one. Clara took it in a heartbeat; she hadn't had tea in a long while.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Any time, Clara." Replied Amy, "I can't wait to see what Rory does when he sees you."

"What am I going to do, dear?"

"Dear?" questioned Clara, a bit smug and a bit confused. He stood there, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

"Oh my god, Clara, is that you?"

"The one and only." She smiled. He came rushing over and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Rory," she said, "You're crushing me."

"So what have you been up to in the past five years?" he asked her.

"You know, traveling, making friends, losing friends, I actually met a guy –"

"Ooh," said Amy with a coy smile, "Do tell."

"We broke up."

"C'mon, Clara. That's so dull." Said Rory.

"He was actually the one that suggested that I come back here yesterday. He gave me his number… I think it's in my car."

"Holy Crap!" exclaimed Rory, "You still have Tara?"

"Don't diss the car, Rory." She said, "She has feelings too."

"Why'd you end it?" asked Amy, seemingly curious.

"It didn't feel right. It felt like nothing changed when I was with him. It was… black and white, so to speak." She had forgotten to mention that she hadn't seen the word in the dull shades for a while, an Amy and Rory had shared a confused look.

"You see them too?"

"See what?"

"The Colors – the vibrant blues and yellows and pinks of a never ending tomorrow?" asked Amy.

"Maybe."

"Oh my goodness, Clara! That's wonderful! Do you know who sparked them?" asked Amy. She sighed a sigh of relied that Rory hadn't told Amy anything.

"I don't want to tell you – that sort of the reason why I ran away. It's kind of sad."

"Does Rory know?" asked Amy.

"No." She said.

"It's really quite obvious, really," said Rory, "Clara saw the Colors with the Doctor, but she thought he didn't see them when he was with her." Rory stated. Amy looked at her with eyes filled with pity, and she wanted to cry. Nobody was supposed to know; it was her little secret.

"Stop." She managed to bite out, "Please, just stop."

"I don't suppose why I should," said Rory in spite, "did you just come back because River's been dead for a year and you think you might have a chance?"

"What!" she sobbed, "River's dead?"

"Yeah," said Rory as Amy watched in horror, "poof! Gone in a car accident. The Doctor is devastated. So stop being heartless and just go back to where you came from."

"I swear, I didn't know, Rory; I swear! I just wanted to come back, I missed you_; I missed you_. River was my _friend_, why would I do that to her."

"Because that's what you do, Clara; it's what you always have done."

"How? _HOW_?" she sobbed; she knew coming back was going to be a bad idea. Her mother was right; she was trash. Rory had tried to fix her up, but she broke again and now he was going to throw her out, "I don't understand. I left because I wanted them to be happy together; I left because they were my friends and I didn't – I didn't want to ruin what they had for something that I wanted. I'm a dreamer, Rory. I dream of possible tomorrows and past yesterdays. I dream that he loves me; I know he doesn't and I know he never will but please,_ don't you dare take that dream away from me too."_

"Rory," interrupted Amy, "How was she to know that River passed? She doesn't have a phone, she was probably very frugal, and so she probably wouldn't get a newspaper every day."

"She shouldn't have left. She's selfish, Amy."

"I just wanted to see you again." She muttered through salt water tears, "Why can't you believe me. I missed you. I missed River and the Doctor. I left because I wanted you to be happy; I left so you wouldn't have to throw me out like everybody else does, but it looks like I'm getting thrown out again." She said while standing up. She placed her tea cup on the coffee table. She caught a glimpse of Amy's hand and noticed a big ring sitting on it. "Congratulations on being wedded to him, Amy. Tell John I said hello. I don't think you'll be seeing me again." She walked out of their house back to Tara. She pulled out onto the street completely aware of Amy shouting her name as she drove away to the Cemetery – the only Cemetery in the town. It was small so she should be able to find the head stone she was looking for.

After she parked her car along the side of the narrow street than through it, she started looking for River's grave. It took her two hours and a couple of tears later to find it. (Her car was parked close to it; she wandererad all over creation before she found River's grave, though) She had a beautiful headstone; she was a beautiful woman (both her personality and her looks) and it only seemed fitting. She sat down, with her back leaned up against the headstone and cried for a while, because she felt that out of all the people in the universe, River was the only other woman to know what it felt like to be in love with the Doctor. It was special, their bond, although she was dead, and Clara was very much alive (The pain in her hear told her so). It was strange for her; she contemplated talking to River. It just seemed like she would listen.

"They all hate me now. And they won't listen, well Amy sort of did, but Rory didn't and I'm sure John wont; but you will. I'm sure. I left because I love you guys. I didn't want to get in the way. My step mother told me I was trash when I was younger, and it's always sort of stuck with me. I guess seeing you both together; you were both so perfect for each other, I just felt like I was trash. I mean, what did I have against you – I was just a broken little twenty three woman with an impossible dream. You were so special to me, River. I'm sorry I didn't attend your funeral."

"I envy you, you know. You're everything I'm not – you're pretty and nice and sassy and you were able to love the Doctor and he loved you back. That's so special. I wish, I just wish that he could love me too. Maybe I should just go. Maybe Rory was right; no - he is right, River; I _am _selfish. I only think about myself. I know John's hurting, I know how it feels. I lost my mum when I was a little girl. It hurt - all that loss. You feel so _alone_. If I _had_ _known_, if I had known you had passed I would have come back. I would have tried to help him, you know. You were one of my best friends. I would have taken care of him for you."

"But I can never love him like you were able to; then it would look like I was waiting for you to leave so I could love him. It's never fair, River. I'm so sick of all this black and white. I hope he made you see the Colors. He got me see them. They're so uniquely special. They make you feel so alive and it's exhilarating. I hope he made you feel as special as he makes me feel. I _wish_; I wish for so many things, you know, I wished for my mother to not be dead, I wished my step-mother would love me; but you know, they never come true, because in the end nobody gives the slightest shit. You know that more than anything, don't you. Yeah, I guess you do."

She stayed there, just crying against a grave for two hours or so. She heard a car drive by and park; but she didn't care. She just wanted to be there and cry. She wanted to cry about all that she had lost, all that she had become, and all that she would never have. She heard a person's footsteps on the grass approach her. She didn't want to say anything. She kept her eyes shut and her mouth closed.

"Excuse me, Miss. You happen to be crying on my dead wife's grave; I could show you a different one, if you want to keep crying." Said a man, who sounded broken and alone. His voice wanted to make her cry even more just by its self.

"She was one of my best friends." She cried out. Then she remembered – that man said dead wife. _Oh fuck, _she thought, _Not the Doctor; anyone but the Doctor._

"Clara?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm so sorry. I'll just go. I didn't –"she was cut off when he abruptly hugged her and started kissing the top of her head. The Color's blossomed in front of her eyes, but she wasn't happy. She didn't like seeing him this way.

"I was so worried about you." He told her, "Why'd you come back; in your letter you said you weren't coming back."

"I had a change of heart."

"What are you doing here? I wasn't aware that you knew River… you know." He said.

"Rory told me. Well, he screamed at me and told me to go away. I was just on my way to leave and never return."

"Without saying hello to me?" he looked hurt (losing a loved one does that to people).

"He said you wouldn't want to see me." She said.

"Why wouldn't I want to see you, Clara? You were, correction, _are _my best friend – I always want to see you." That's all she was; and all she would ever be – his best friend. That hurt her more than anything ever before. "I need to get out of here. I need to leave this place. It's so attached to normal. I need to forget about her. Take me with you, Clara. Please." He pleaded to her. His eyes were so full of sadness it made her sick. She thought about what to say.

"I'll take you, Doctor, I'll take you to see the world. But promise me; promise me you'll never forget her. She was too important to be forgotten. She's River, she's your wife; she deserves so much more than to be forgotten," she demanded, "I tried forgetting someone once. It didn't work, because in all the beauty that I saw, I saw them, I saw all their flaws and all their virtues. All I did was think of them."

"You'll take me?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll take you, silly. I'd find a way to show you the stars if I could. Go home and pack your stuff. And prepare to say goodbye to her; say it like you know you'll see her again. Because your love for her is a promise that you'll never break – so prove it." He kissed her forehead once more, making butterflies take flight.

"What did I ever do without you?"

"No idea."

He left, and she stayed to keep watch over River's tomb. He returned forty-five minutes later with a two very large bags, and two smaller ones. He was wearing a red bow tie. She smiled; he looked happy. And his happiness was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

She stuffed his things into the back of Tara and told him to go say good bye to River. She didn't want to intrude such an intimate moment. He wasn't done when she finished packing the car, so she distracted herself by cleaning off the passenger seat. He returned moments later with a sad smile on his face.

"I need to put my car back. And I think I should tell Amy and Rory that I'm leaving."

"No." she blurted, he looked at her quizzically, "Well, yes to the car thing, but no about the Amy and Rory thing; Rory will just get really pissed off at me and tell you that it's my fault that you're leaving. Call Amy in the morning; she'll understand… hopefully."

"I just feel so awful leaving them without a trace. How did you do it? Just pop off without telling anyone?"

"I've had my fair share of experience." She muttered. He heard her, and wet to ask why but she cut him off, "There'll be plenty of time for stories on the road."

"Promise you'll tell me?" He said.

"Yes, Doctor. Now shut up and start your car so we can get this show on the road."

"Yes, ma'am."

She walked back to her car, started the engine, and followed him back to his home. It looked just as sad as he did. But she would fix that; she was going to try to make him happy again. She would do it to River, because she owed that woman so much. And John, the Doctor, deserved so much more than all this pain and sadness. He parked his car in the garage, and locked the door behind him. She unlocked Tara's doors and he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Geronimo!" he said. She pushed the gas pedal down and Tara zoomed down the street and into a new chapter of their lives.

* * *

><p>During the first year of their journeys, she just followed her heart like an empty highway. It took them where it willed. They never ended up where they wanted to go, but it seemed Tara always seemed to lead them were they needed to be to strengthen their friendship. The Colors were with stronger and more vibrant than ever. She was falling more and more in love with him every day and it was killing her. But, he looked happier, and that's what mattered. If the Doctor, her and River's Doctor, was happy, then so was she.<p>

For her twenty-ninth birthday during the following year, the Doctor decided to take her out drinking. She couldn't say no to him; not with his big, sad puppy dog eyes that so deeply transfixed her. She didn't tell him that she wasn't a big drinker. (She couldn't handle liquor for shit, who was she kidding.) So, she drove to the nearest town and walked into the local pub that was full of burly men and poorly dressed women. She didn't fit in much at all in her ripped jeans, black, beaten up Chuck Taylor's and red sweatshirt. But for as much as she didn't fit in the Doctor made her look seemly normal with his blue bowtie and purple tweed jacket that he seemed to wear everywhere he went. He walked up to the bar and ordered her a drink and one for himself as she sat herself down at a table. He came over five minutes later holding a beer and some sort of mixed drink.

"To the Birthday girl." He said, and they clinked their glasses together and took a sip. Whatever he had ordered for her was really good, and she took a bigger sip then anticipated.

"Thanks, Doctor." She said with a happy smile. She finished her drink more quickly than she would have cared to admit, and she asked him to order her another one. He came back minutes later with another one of whatever the hell it was and she downed it even faster than the last. She began to fell light headed and giddy, and whenever he said something; she laughed. He kept looking at her sideways, and when she asked him for another, he decided that she had taken a little too much of alcohol's influence and that it was time to go.

"C'mon, Clara, it's time to go back to Tara."

"But I don't want to go." She slurred out.

"You've had too much to drink. C'mon."

"Show me the stars, Chin Boy; take me far away from this hell."

"Okay, Clara. I'll take you to look at the stars if you get out of here, okay."

"Yeah." She said. The Colors were blinding her and he took her hand and led her out the doors of the crowded pub. He put her in Tara's passenger seat and drove her to the top of a nearby hill. He opened her door like a gentleman, and led her out. She told her to wait there as he dug through their stuff in the trunk for a ratty blanket to lie on. (He eventually found one.)

"Clara, sit down here."

"Okay." She whispered. She put her head back on the cold blanket covered Earth and looked up at the night sky. The stars were bright and blinding as he took her hand. She wondered if she had such an effect on him; she wondered if he could see – if he could _really see _the world as it was supposed to be seen. And in her drunken state, without even realizing it, she asked him a question - a question that ruined everything in their friendship.

"Can you see them too?" she asked.

"The stars? Why don't be silly, Clara, my chin can't block my vision."

"No, not the stars."

"Then what? What can you possibly see that I can't? My vision isn't all that bad; I just need reading glasses."

"The Colors; the brilliant swirling blues and the sad blacks and the pompous purples and the audacious reds; like our red swing set."

"What are you talking about? Colors?"

"Yeah. You know. It's like my mum said before she died – you see the Colors when you're with your special person."

"Special Person?" he questioned.

"You know, like when you love somebody so much that all you ever want is for them to be happy. Or when you love somebody so much that you would leave them just to make them happy, no matter how much it hurts."

"Are you saying," he said in a straight grave voice, "that I'm your special person."

"Yeah," she said, "I suppose I am." He got up suddenly, and he seemed very cold and rigid when he walked himself over to Tara and pulled out another blanket. He put it on top of her and bid her good night. Then he opened the passenger door, and got it, slamming the door shut behind her. She fell asleep thinking about the stars and how brightly they shined.

She woke up the next morning, covered in a morning frost. She looked around, confused on where she was. She felt like crap – she didn't remember much of what had happened the night before. She knew it was a bad idea to go drinking – she was never a good drinker. She looked around for the Doctor, but became dizzy and vomited up the contents of her stomach. She sounded like a dying crow as the contents of the night before found their way out of her body. She expected the Doctor to come out and comfort her, but he stayed inside Tara and watched her puke her guts out from a distance.

After she finished vomiting, she picked up the blankets and folded them so she could place them in the trunk. She opened it and put the blankets down. She closed the trunk with a slam. She opened the Driver's side door and got in. She noticed almost immediately that there was something wrong with the Doctor. She must have said something last night. Dear god, she hoped she didn't tell him about the Colors. She probably did; and she ruined everything, just as she always had. It was always her fault – why was she so stupid? Why couldn't she be that perfect girl, the little girl that wanted to grow up and be like her mother? Instead she was a girl that hated the idea of domesticity; she was always on the prowl, and she should have realized by then that there was no time for friends and love when you were always moving.

She wished for a lot of things in her short life, but right now, she wished herself dead. She wished that she wouldn't have to endure him looking at her with such confusion and anger, especially not on the day after her birthday. She didn't want to actually look the rejection in the eyes. She didn't want him to look at her in black and white when she saw him in vivid color. She didn't want that as a birthday present. She was perfectly content, or so she thought, with him just thinking of her as a friend, because then at least he wouldn't hate her. She wanted to, in that moment, run away from everything – she wanted to run away from her life with him and with everybody else. Because that's what Clara did, she ran and ran until she reached where the sidewalk ended. She couldn't keep living like this; it would eventually kill her – there was no avoiding it. Whether her death be actually true, or by her heart being ripped out of her chest then torn to pieces, and right after that being shoved right back into her chest.

She started the car and drove back to the main road and got on the highway of dead dreams to return back to the town that she had taken the Doctor from. He was so willing to follow her till the ends of the Earth, and all she did was fuck things up. She wanted to apologize, but she just didn't know how to begin to say how sorry she was. She let River down – she had promised her that she would take care of the Doctor, making sure he was happy, but he didn't look happy anymore. She had ruined him; she had ruined everything that they ever had.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I'm so sorry. Please, just I didn't mean –"

"Of course you meant it, Clara!" he shouted, "Who would lie about the Colors? Nobody would lie about that!" _Shit. _

"I was drunk, John. I didn't know what I was saying. Please, just listen." She pleaded.

"You seemed to know exactly what you were saying last night, Clara, don't lie to me; I don't deserve to be lied to – my wife is dead. Oh my god, you were waiting for the right time. You selfish _bitch_; Rory was right about you. Pull this car over now."

"Don't ever tell me that I was doing this for me; _don't you _fucking_ dare tell me what I did was selfish – _I did this, all this traveling, for your wife. I promised her that day you found me on her grave, _I promised HER _that I would do all in my power to make you happy." She screamed.

"You don't understand what it's like losing someone so close to you it's like you're other half – you wouldn't understand if it hit you in the face."

"Shut up." She spat, "I lost my mother and gran in a two year span. My dad stopped loving me and my step-mother beat me. Don't you dare say losing a wife is worse; they both hurt a lot. I can't compare my pain to yours, so don't tell me that I don't know what loosing someone important feels like. I know that it hurts; but nobody can replace her. Why would I try to take her place? She loved you so much; I could never take that from her."

"Why did you leave us in the first place?" he asked her, "I swear to all things good, if you don't answer, I'll do something that won't be good for you, me, or Tara." She didn't want to tell him; it would put her in such a disposition that she might now be able to get out with any dignity left.

"I didn't want to be in the way of your happiness." She said; it wasn't the whole truth, and she sensed that he knew she wasn't exactly being completely honest.

"Continue." He demanded.

"Just let me pull over, in case we crash or something." He nodded and she pulled over into the shoulder.

"I didn't want to hurt; maybe you're _right_, Doctor. Maybe I'm selfish; maybe that's why I ran. I didn't want to see how much you're happiness would hurt me." She said.

"What do you mean?"

"_How could you possibly not understand by now? _It hurt to see you so happy with her, Doctor, it hurt a lot."

"Are you saying…?"

"Don't say it; if you don't say it I won't have to face it."

"Why are you so afraid?" he asked her; he didn't sound mean or menacing, but that's what she made it out to be.

"I don't want to stop running from things." She admitted, "I want to be far ahead of everything and everyone; but this thing – that word, that _fucking word_, caught up to me and I don't know what to do." She sighed. "It's going to hurt. How do I make it not hurt? How do I go back? Damn it, Tara, why can't you be a time machine!

"Just say it, Clara!" he exclaimed.

"I can't." she cried, "I don't want to, I'm scared, John. I'm fucking terrified."

"I won't hate you; I promise, okay?" he said. She figured he was lying.

"I think I have been in love with you." She slowly said, "and I think I have been for a long time." She couldn't look at him; she didn't dare. She thought he was going to hit her; she thought he was going to throw her out just like the piece of garbage that she was. But he didn't. He gently cupped her face and kissed her. She didn't know what was happening. She thought she was dreaming; she didn't dare open her eyes, but she kissed him back. She was so happy, but she knew it couldn't be real. So she kissed him like it was her last day. It wasn't real; she had nothing to hide in her dreams. It did matter that he didn't love her, because this was her moment of glory and if she were to die right then and know, she would die happy. She pulled back away from him and kept her eyes shut. She didn't want to say anything; she might wake up and he might not be here cradling her face like she was some precious gem.

"Clara, you can open your eyes. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He sounded so sweet and innocent and so childlike. It was so unlike the Doctor she knew, but she wanted to trust him; she wanted to believe that he wouldn't leave her.

"Swear on something that matters. Promise me you won't leave me when I open my eyes. _Swear to me_."

"I swear on Tara that I won't leave you, Clara." She opened her eyes, and there he was; he was holding her face with such precision and the twinkling in his eyes made her go crazy, "because I love you, Clara, and I think I have for a while."

"But what about River? What about the Colors?"

"I don't think it was ever her that made me see the world as it was intended to be seen, I think it was you; I think it was _always_ you."

"Stop it." She said, "Stop it. You loved River, you loved her _so_ _much_."

"I know I did."

"Then stop saying that loving her was a mistake."

"I'm not saying that."

"Then what are you saying, Doctor?" Tell me."

"Some people are lucky to have one love in their life, and I, Clara, I think I'm the luckiest man in the universe, because I have _two_."

* * *

><p><strong>So here is literally the longest thing I have ever written. It's like 9,400 words and just I cant believe I wrote that many words in a span of a week. <strong>

**Also, I cant believe this is a one shot. I was aiming for about 6,000 words for this one-shot, honestly. I think I got a little carried away.**

**I'm not sure if I'll update Silent Hearts Beating this weekend, because I need to study for midterms *Sobs* and I just don't know if I'll have time to type up and upload what I have written down. **

**Any who, please review and Favorite. Because depending on the response, I may write a sequel. I was going to write a '10 years later' type thing, but I liked the way that I ended this. ****And again, please review and feel free to check out my other Whouffle Fics and to send me Whouffle Prompts through my tumblr (link is in the bio) or through PM on here or Dm on instagram or just by using the review thingie on this very page \o.0/ (who knew)**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**Xoxo,**

**bleuboxes**


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